Love Bites
by suerum
Summary: It's Valentine's Day but neither Jason nor Spinelli are going to have the opportunity to enjoy the romantic evening they each have planned for their respective partners.


A/N: I don't own any aspects of General Hospital, so instead, I write fan fiction...

Love Bites

"Sam," Jason said opening the front door, "Did you forget your key?"

"Not, Sam," Diane Miller stated the obvious as she purposefully raised her left hand which she placed on the doorframe, followed by cocking out her right hip.

Jason's eyes widened as he correctly interpreted her unmistakable come hither signs. It wasn't a simple matter of a seductive body position but was embodied in every aspect of his lawyer's appearance. Diane's curvaceous figure was encased in a sequin encrusted crimson dress which reached only midway down her thighs. Two thin straps were all that stood between her ripe up thrust breasts and their urgent search for freedom. Despite himself, Jason found his eyes moving to the deep and decadently exposed cleft precisely positioned between those very breasts.

"Enjoying the view?" Diane purred as she pushed her overtly displayed assets even closer to his face.

Swallowing, Jason remembered himself and stepped back, moving away from the door and the pulchritudinous temptation. "What do you want, Diane?" He asked, his voice a husky rasp as he tried to calm his body's spontaneous reaction to her explicit sexuality. 'Get a grip,' he commanded himself, furious at his state of arousal in response to a woman whom he had never thought of in any other capacity except as a lawyer and possibly a friend.

Diane's ruby red lips pouted and her eyes gleamed with some incomprehensible emotion. She leaned even further into the door frame wrapping her arms under her breasts and causing the creamy mounds of flesh to rise to a height even greater than that attained by the artificial aid of her best push up bra. "Can I come in?" The innocuous request issuing from those ravishing lips as her tongue darted out lasciviously and her white teeth briefly gleamed sounded like an extremely indecent proposition.

Jason hesitated, he slowly scanned up the length of Diane's body. His captivated gaze started at her open toed, stiletto heeled shoes which perfectly matched the glittering color of her dress and moved up her toned calves and traced along those barely covered thighs. His eyes flowed across her hips and waist skittering nervously as they once more encountered her distracting breasts. Jason ended his erotic inventory of her person by lingering on her luscious lips curved in an ironic and amused smile as she fully endorsed his perusal of her femininity. Finally, he locked gazes with her and something about her eyes, their catlike glittering, caused a frisson of uneasiness to travel down Jason's spinal cord.

He found himself shaking his head as he refused her, "Sorry, Diane," Jason was amazed to find his voice sounding almost normal. "It's not a good time. I'm expecting Sam at any moment and since it's Valentine Day we have special plans."

"I just bet you do," her face which a mere moment ago was assured of her welcome and was complacent in her victory suddenly twisted into an outraged mask. The chime of the arriving elevator interrupted what appeared to be the beginning of some sort of diatribe on Diane's part and Sam stepped out into the foyer.

Sam moved toward the two of them smiling but as she drew nearer she sensed the tension between Jason and Diane. "Diane," she said as a small vertical line appeared between her eyes when she fully absorbed the impact of the other woman's seductive outfit, "What are you doing here?" She exchanged a puzzled glance with Jason who shrugged his shoulders unable to help answer her question.

Instead of answering Sam, Diane pulsed her head toward her in a move reminiscent of a striking cobra. "You smell good, Sam," she said dreamily stepping toward the younger woman and crowding her so that she inadvertently moved backward. "So warm and alive and…just all around yummy. I could eat you right up." She was gushing now, her lips curving in a feral grin, her eyes piercing deep into Sam's who froze before her like a rabbit caught in the glare of headlights.

"Sam!" Jason's near shout broke the prey predator stance the two women had adopted. He stepped out of the penthouse and inserted himself bodily between Sam and Diane. Without hesitation his hand clamped down iron hard onto Sam's wrist and he dragged her unresisting form back into the instinctive safety of the penthouse.

Diane caught off balance was whippet fast but she found herself facing a closed and locked door. Furious and frustrated she kicked at it with one elegantly shod foot. "If not you or Sam, Jason," she hissed through the wooden barrier, "There's always Mr. Grasshopper, such an intelligent compliant young man. I imagine he tastes sweet with maybe just the tiniest flavor of a tangy after bite. I'll be sure to give him your regards." She swirled around and was gone the only evidence of her presence the lingering musky smell of perfume.

"What the hell was that all about?" Sam asked Jason as she rubbed her sore wrist and shook her head to clear away the dizzy feeling which had overwhelmed her mind and occluded her thinking the moment Diane locked eyes with her.

"I don't know," Jason said tersely, scowling as he punched buttons on his cell phone. "Shit, it's gone to voice mail. Spinelli, this is Jason, if you're with Maxie at her apartment stay there. If you're somewhere else go find a secure room and lock yourself in. Under no circumstances, I repeat under no circumstances, let Diane Miller in wherever you are. I am coming to get you. As soon as you get this message call me and do as I say. It's a matter of life and death!"

"Jason!" Sam protested as she watched him grabbing his leather jacket and the gun box out of the coat closet. "What's going on?"

He didn't answer her as he looked down at his silver weapon, a frown creasing his forehead. "Bullets," he said distractedly, "It can't be bullets." Jason headed for the dining area trailed by a bemused Sam who watched incredulously as he upended one of the chairs and snapping its leg off. Jason weighed the jagged edged piece of wood in his hand as though considering its mass and balance.

"Jason what the hell are you doing?" Sam was getting more and more upset. First Diane practically attacked her and performed some weird mind mojo on her and now Jason was acting like a demented man and ripping legs off of inoffensive furniture.

Jason broke two more legs from the defenseless chair and seemingly satisfied turned his attention back to Sam. 'I'm going to find Spinelli and bring him home. You stay here and if that bitch comes back, call me."

"Jason, let me go with you," Sam said, "I can help with whatever is happening. I want to be there for Spinelli if he's in trouble."

Jason was tucking his gun into his jeans, useful or not he felt naked going into a combat situation without it. He gathered the chair legs up in his left hand and then looked at Sam with regret. "I have to do this solo," he said softly, moving toward her and cupping her chin in his free hand. "I need to be focused on helping Spinelli and I won't be able to do that if I am worrying about you as well."

Sam protested weakly, lost in the glacial depths of his eyes which were shining bright with his love and concern for her. "You know I'm good in a fight. Take me with you, I can watch your back."

He smiled at her. She loved it when he smiled because it was so seldom that he did. It was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds or a rainbow or some other sissy simile but all she knew was that it never failed-even in this fraught moment-to make her weak in the knees.

"I know you are," he readily nodded his agreement, his thumb brushing across her lips, "But this isn't an ordinary situation. It's not about guns and backup. I don't have the time to make sure you will do what you have to when the moment comes. A single miscalculation can be fatal, worse than fatal." He amended solemnly. His eyes were clouded with something that might have been fear except that was impossible because Jason Morgan didn't do fear. He left that particular emotion as the sole purview of lesser mortals.

"Jason," it was her final plea but it was clear to Sam that it was futile, he was impervious to her. Relenting, she spoke sulkily, "Fine, I'll stay here like a good little woman and try not to think too much about what is happening to you or Spinelli."

"Good," he said softly, bending down and exchanging the touch of his thumb for the caress of his lips as he kissed her tenderly. "We'll be back before you know it." Jason was opening the door, "Lock this behind me," he ordered.

Sam walked over to the door and watched as he opened the door to the stairwell, "Be careful," she admonished him, unable to keep the worry out of her voice. Jason sketched a brief wave and then he vanished as the door closing behind him with a hydraulic whoosh. Sam shut and locked the front door. Leaning against it, she sighed as she surveyed the empty penthouse, "Now what the hell am I supposed to do?"

Spinelli stared out across the harbor. It was a frigid night. Mid-February in upper New York State could be counted upon to have two types of weather. It was either cold and snowing or it was bone chilling cold and clear. Tonight, on this Valentine's Day night, it was the latter of the two options which held sway. He dug his bare hands even deeper into the inadequate protection provided by his coat pockets. For once, he wasn't wearing any of his usual preventatives against the inequities of a Port Charles winter.

Over the past three years he had learned to love this city, to consider it his adopted home. Still, he could never make peace with the awful, soul sapping cold which began in late October and continued on into March and sometimes even April. He learned to cope by wearing hats, sweaters, gloves and heavily insulated jackets along with that never glamorous but oh so reliable staple of long underwear. Yet, tonight he was dressed up for romance, for dining out and escorting a lovely lady to the Metro Court for an intimate dinner for two followed by…well, a gentleman never told. Thus, he was wearing a suit, polished dress shoes and an elegant vicuna coat which was a Christmas present from Maxie.

The ensemble was meant for getting him from a building into the heated interior of a vehicle and then through a reversed repetition of the performance at his destination's end. It certainly wasn't appropriate for wandering the slick cobbled surface of the docks. His breath pulsed out in small white clouds of exhalation which sparkled in the moonlight. The harbor was calm; it was a polished ebony stone dimly reflecting the stars on this moonless night. Spinelli wasn't aware of the cold, he wasn't cognizant of the emptiness stretching before him as the dark water surged endlessly to meet the vast and deep Atlantic. Instead, isolated and uncaring of his surroundings, he was entirely lost in his unpleasant thoughts.

Spinelli stood in front of Lulu's and Maxie's apartment door clutching a dozen red roses. In his estimation, this night was a vital opportunity for him to rebuild his relationship with Maxie, for him to show her that he had moved on from what occurred between her and Franco. He only hoped Maxie could participate in it as fully as he. He most fervently wished that for once she wouldn't try to bring up the topic of evening the score as she tried to convince him to sleep with someone else.

There was no response to his knock and he turned the door knob finding it unlocked. "Maximista?" Spinelli asked uncertainly, the living room was dark and at first he thought no one was there and that perhaps he had misunderstood Maxie. Perhaps, they were meant to meet elsewhere or maybe not at all tonight. Yet, that last couldn't possibly be true because this was Valentine's Day and he knew they had made plans so it must be something else.

Cautiously he entered the room, feeling his way through the unfamiliar dark, worried about bumping into something. The apartment wasn't empty, there were noises coming from the direction of Maxie's bedroom, easily identifiable sounds. Spinelli didn't need visual proof. He could have spared himself or at least his eyes from seeing what was happening but something, be it anger, be it heartbreak, be it his never ending quest for empirical evidence, drove him forward.

The door to Maxie's room was slightly ajar and he pressed his eye to the crack. They were enmeshed on the bed, her bed, the bed upon which yielding surface he had made everlasting, passionate love to her. There they lay in a tangle of limbs, hers as it ought to have been but not his. No, what legs and arms by rights should have been encasing her ivory loveliness, her yearning acquiescence was instead supplanted by the dark head and long legs of Johnny Zacchara. The sounds hadn't been misleading after all. The inarticulate moans and groans combined with cries of "Yes, there," and "Do that again," and most cruel of all, "Oh, Johnny!" were precisely matched to the accompanying activity. Both the visuals and the soundtrack of what he was witnessing were now perpetually seared into his brain and even worse his splintered heart.

Stumbling, unaware and uncaring if his presence were to be detected, he fled the apartment. Once out on the street he forgot his patiently waiting vehicle, he forgot the cold and the dark and the fact that it was a chill February night and he ran. For an unmeasured duration of time, he skidded along on icy, uneven sidewalks as his breath came more and more raggedly and his muscles pleaded for rest. When Spinelli finally did stop it wasn't because of intent but rather necessity for he found were he to keep moving he would be in the icy waters of the harbor. He was mildly surprised to find the beat of self preservation, weak but still present, deep down in his body forcing him to come to an abrupt teetering halt at the dark water's edge.

Since then he had been wandering aimlessly up and down the dock, oblivious to passing time, unaware of the cold even though he shivered and his nose and hands were becoming numb. All he could see, all he could dwell upon was the scene of unfaithfulness he had left behind him in Maxie's apartment. It was a blatant act on Maxie's part, she knew he was coming over. Therefore, she must have staged it for his benefit. Still, it was the why of it which was what his mind puzzled over, tore down and analyzed and tormented himself endlessly through the wavy glass of his own perceptions and his own feelings. Finally, he drew the inevitable conclusion which was the only one his wretched, battered heart could make. It wasn't that he loved her any less but more simply that Maxie had made it impossible for him to love her any longer.

His decision made, relief merged with ceaseless misery and he let out his breath in an extended sigh that was part sob. As though a switch had been flipped he found himself once more in the moment, cognizant of his surroundings, of the dark dock and the all pervading cold.

"Mr. Grasshopper," the voice came out of the shadows, startling in its unexpected proximity. "You seem distraught."

Spinelli relaxed, somehow he was comforted by her presence. Her counsel, her listening ear had always been a constant in his romantic life. He nodded, the motion invisible in the cloaking darkness, "Yes," he said, embarrassed by the thick clotted sound of his voice, indicating his incipient tears, "It's over between Maximis…Maxie and myself."

"What did that little minx do now?" She asked with a biting asperity. Diane's automatic assumption that the fault lay with Maxie warmed Spinelli to his core and made him feel as though he wasn't as alone as he felt mere seconds before.

"She slept with Johnny Zacchara," he muttered forlornly. He moved closer to where Diane was, his dark adapted eyes beginning to discern the vague outline of her shape where she stood leaning against a pier piling. "It's Valentine's Day," he added disconsolately.

"There, there," she murmured consolingly as she stepped toward him, "Maxie Jone's lack of good taste is most certainly my gain on this most romantic of nights."

For the first time, Spinelli was close enough to the lawyer to see how skimpy and entirely inappropriate for the current weather her outfit was. "Here," he said shrugging out of his already inadequately warming coat and courteously slipping it over her bare shoulders, "What possessed you to venture forth in such frigid weather in such a scantily clad fashion?" Already he was shivering as a chill wind blew in from the harbor and cut straight through the insufficient covering provided by a dress shirt and a suit jacket, Armani though it might be.

Diane laughed, it was a silvery crystalline sound but it caused the hairs on Spinelli's neck to rise involuntarily with no reference to the chill of the ambient air. "Mr. Grasshopper you are truly a gentleman, one of a rare and dying breed." She pulled the coat more closely around her clutching at the neck with one hand while she tucked her other into the crook of Spinelli's arm. Gently she tugged on him, pulling him toward the edge of the dock where together they stood contemplating the water as it surged forward on its unending odyssey to nowhere. "Mr. Spinelli," Diane spoke softly, "Have you ever considered the true ramifications of eternity?"

Jason was furious and he was desperate. His heart pounded and his lungs burned as he raced down the sidewalk not even sure if he was going in the right direction. He needed to find Spinelli and he needed to find him before he was too late, before he was dead or something even worse…No, he wouldn't, he couldn't allow his mind to go there. He had to be focused, whether he knew it or not Spinelli was counting on him and Jason was determined not to fail him.

He had gone directly to Maxie's apartment, calling Spinelli's cell phone every few moments and growling in frustration when it continued to go to voice mail. Jason was relieved to see Spinelli's car parked outside the building. He pounded on the door, yelling, "Maxie and Spinelli, let me in, it's Jason!"

"Jason!" Maxie whipped the door open. She was standing before him only wearing a peach colored silk kimono, The silky fabric kept slipping voluptuously away from her bare shoulder showing she was entirely nude beneath the thin sheath. "Stop yelling, the neighbors will complain. What the hell are you doing here anyway?" Her voice was shriller than usual and she pushed at her disheveled hair in agitation.

Jason narrowed his eyes suspiciously, lacking either desire or intent on his part he had become expert at reading Maxie's moods and mannerisms over the past months as she and Spinelli became inseparable. At this particular moment, it was abundantly clear to him that she was feeling guilty.

"Where's Spinelli?" He asked abruptly not wishing to indulge Maxie's histrionics.

He wanted nothing more than to collect his roommate and get him safely back to the penthouse and away from whatever diabolical intentions Diane Miller possessed toward him. Everything else was secondary to that goal. Whatever Maxie's problems or issues were could wait along with picking up Spinelli's car later because Jason wasn't intending to let him out of his sight even long enough to drive home.

Maxie's eyes widened in puzzlement at Jason's question and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder before replying, "What are you doing here, Jason?" She asked again. "Didn't you and Sam have plans tonight? It's Valentine's Day can't you just take a night off and leave Spinelli alone and concentrate on giving Sam a romantic night to remember for the next time you go all mobster on her and get into some sort of shoot up?"

"Maxie," Jason was getting impatient with her attempts to deflect him from his goal. "This is important or I wouldn't be here. Just go get Spinelli, he needs to come back home with me."

"He's not here," she said sullenly, unwilling to meet his eyes.

"What do you mean he's not here?" Jason responded in disbelief, "His car's right outside. Now stop fooling around and tell him to get out here." He brushed by her, intent on accessing Spinelli himself if she refused to cooperate, "Spinelli," he said heading for the bedroom door which wasn't quite closed. Before he could knock or push it open further, whichever he might have intended, the door swung wide and Johnny Zacchara stood there slouching against the door jamb clad only in a pair of jeans that clung to his hips.

"What do you mean Spinelli's car is outside?" Maxie's comprehension of what Jason had told her was delayed and now there was an edge of panic to her voice. "I…we didn't see him."

Jason swung around and glared at her as she stared down at the floor unable to meet his condemnatory gaze. "God damn it, Maxie!" He growled out, momentarily forgetting the reason he had come there in the first place. "Why the hell do you keep breaking his heart like this?"

"I…I…" she stammered and for once Maxie Jones had no words mendacious or otherwise to offer in her exculpation.

"Why are you worried about Spinelli?" Johnny's drawl brought Jason back to his immediate concern.

His first inclination was to say nothing, to leave these two traitors to their illicit tryst and hopefully, at least on Maxie's part, well deserved remorse. Still, the analytical part of his mind prodded at him. He needed all the information he could get to help him find Spinelli. That consideration and that alone overrode his distaste about remaining in Maxie's apartment for even an extra minute.

"I need to find him before Diane Miller does." Jason said without elaboration. "Do you have a clue about how long ago he was here?" Turning around he raised an interrogatory eyebrow at Maxie who had the good grace to blush as she only responded by a mute shake of her head.

"It couldn't have been that long ago," Johnny was more pragmatic as he focused on what Jason wanted to know rather than the correct apportioning of blame. "I've been here less than an hour and we probably didn't move to the bedroom more than forty-five minutes or so ago."

"Thanks," Jason said with heavy sarcasm as he headed for the door. Spinelli could have gotten anywhere in three quarters of an hour.

"Jason, wait," it was Maxie clutching at his leather jacket, her voice imploring, "Why are you worried about Diane doing something to Spinelli? She likes him, she wouldn't do anything to him." Her voice lacked conviction. Jason guessed it was because everything about her world had turned topsy turvy in a matter of hours or even minutes and so that meant she lacked her usual certainty about people and their motivations.

Reaching down he plucked her fingers away, removing her grip on his jacket. He didn't want her touch contaminating anything of his ever again. "You knew he was coming over here," she stared up at him mesmerized as he spoke with a controlled ferocity. "It was a date wasn't it and Spinelli always keeps his dates especially with you." The contempt in his voice as he deliberately avoided saying her name made Maxie flinch but her inner courage even in the face of denunciation keep her eyes glued on his. "So, consciously or not you must have wanted him to see…" Briefly Jason thoughts flew to Spinelli without any associated reference to Diane as he envisioned how devastated he must have been at the sight of Johnny in Maxie's bed, in her arms, making love to her. It was more imperative than ever that he find him. His upper lip curled in contempt as he said his final words. "Stay away from him or you'll regret it.

Now Maxie's nerve did break as she for the first time received the full impetus of his renowned stone cold persona directed squarely at her. She gave a little gasp of shock and then placing her hand over mouth, her eyes welling with tears she turned and dashed toward her bedroom. Johnny reached a hand out for her as she brushed by him but she was insensible of the gesture. She flung herself through the door, slamming it behind her. There was a dull thud as Maxie threw herself on her bed and the sound of loud gulping sobs could be distinctly heard through the thin apartment walls.

"Jason, wait up!" Johnny's voice echoed back from the concrete walls lining the building's stairwell.

Jason paused in his headlong dash for the street level, only intent on continuing his search for Spinelli. He paused briefly and scowled up at the younger man who was bounding down the steps behind him. "What do you want?" His breathing was rough and he took the interlude to rest, he would need to pace himself, to be ready for battle if he found Diane with Spinelli.

"I'll help you search for Spinelli," Johnny had reached Jason and the older man was annoyed to see that he wasn't out of breathe.

Jason's first impulse was to reject the younger man's offer out of hand. After all, if he kept his dick in his pants none of this would be happening. Jason would have found Spinelli at Maxie's and kept him away from Diane. Yet, he was realistic enough to recognize that if it wasn't Johnny it would have been someone else eventually-Matt Hunter, Ethan Lovett, God knew who else. Still, it was obvious that Maxie's destructive tendencies toward relationships were merely held in abeyance but not removed by Spinelli's unconditional love for her. The problem was with her choosing this night of all nights to irrevocably wreck her bond with Spinelli. It wasn't just a matter of breaking his heart but actually endangering his life.

With a tremendous effort of will, he put his antagonism toward the Zacchara heir aside and grudgingly accepted his offer to help. "Okay," he said gruffly, "We need to find him as soon as possible or he's going to be in big trouble." He started down the last flight of stairs. "I'll go right and you go left. I don't know where he might have gone, probably some place where he could be alone and think." They were at the door now and Jason placed a restraining hand on Johnny's shoulder, "Here take this," he reached into his Jacket and proffered one of the broken off chair legs.

Johnny looked down puzzled at the object Jason was holding out to him. It wasn't the weapon-a gun or a knife-that he had expected and intended to refuse since he possessed one each of his own. "What the…" slowly realization dawned and he looked up at Jason's tense face, fighting to keep a smile off his own, "You want me to stake Diane Miller?" He asked incredulously.

Jason nodded grimly, "Yeah," he said without any embellishment.

For an instant Johnny was sure Jason was playing a practical joke on him. This was his bizarre way at getting back at him for cuckolding Spinelli. He fully expected to look into his eyes and see some glimmer of unholy humor. When he glanced at the mob enforcer he saw only his usual serious expression with an additional underlying hint of panic evident only to someone who knew him well. The incipient smile faded off of Johnny's face as he comprehended the full seriousness of this man he wholly respected and once followed as a comrade in arms. A chill chased up his spine and he swallowed, taking the innocuous piece of wood from Jason's hand.

"What a crazy night," he muttered more to himself then to Jason, hefting the home made stake in his hand, "Diane Miller a vampire!"

"Yes," Jason responded with force, Johnny needed to take this seriously in case he found Spinelli and Diane before he did. "Don't trust her, don't let her talk to you, don't look her in the eyes. I'm depending on you, Johnny," he waited for a beat until the younger mobster's eyes met his, "To protect Spinelli no matter what."

"No matter what," Johnny repeated numbly and then his decision made, he turned away from Jason and begin walking down the street, his stride purposeful.

"Be careful," Jason echoed Sam's earlier admonition and received the same distracted acknowledging wave in return. He backed away a few steps watching Johnny and then spun on his heel and began to run down the sidewalk, his pounding footsteps the only sound on the deserted street.

"Eternity," Spinelli repeated Diane's last word, his tone dull, "It would seem to matter not when the love of one's life has so thoroughly betrayed one that all is ashes. In circumstances such as these, eternity becomes a truly terrifying concept were it to be reality."

"Pish, posh," Diane said in tart reply to his short but melancholic discourse. "That is the precise issue I am attempting to bring to the fore here." She tapped Spinelli sharply on the cheek with one of her blood red, predatory talons causing him to look up at her startled. "The issues that you are experiencing with Maxie are a mere blip on the radar screen of perpetuity. Were you to exist forever, or at least some modified version of such, your love for Maxie would fade into a blurry memory neither passionate nor of much importance. What you feel for her is most likely infatuation anyway but even the greatest of loves pale before the endless, indifferent march of time."

"How can you say such a thing?" Spinelli hadn't thought to feel anything except a pervasive misery but his indignant response to Diane's cavalier evaluation of his love for Maxie, indeed for any great and abiding romantic love raised his ire. "There are boundless examples of love which lasts untarnished throughout the ages-Romeo and Juliet, Anthony and Cleopatra, Tristan and Isolde, Heloise and Abelard, Pyramus and Thisbe, Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy…" He ran out of breath before he ran out of names and he stood staring angrily at Diane. His offended outrage warmed him slightly against the biting chill of a landward breeze coming in off the harbor.

Diane just laughed at his impassioned defense of perpetual love. The part of Spinelli's brain which never ceased analyzing the environment around him noticed with curiosity mingled with an unexpected sensation of dread that the cloud of smoke which accompanied his every word was peculiarly absent when the lawyer spoke.

"Those are indeed some powerful examples of resonant love Mr. Grasshopper," she concurred agreeably as she intentionally locked gazes with the young hacker. "Yet, you fail to notice in your enthusiasm to prove my contention wrong that not only have you blithely mixed fictional and real characters you have also neglected to note that, with the exception of the latter example, all those romances were tragically doomed. Their protagonists either died prematurely or endured difficult times and agonizing separation. Additionally, I would argue that were either Elizabeth Bennett or Fitzwilliam Darcy to find themselves in the position of being immortal they would move on and find other great loves which matched or indeed surpassed what they shared with one another, special though it might be."

Spinelli was mesmerized by her ruby red lips, the fascinating flash of white as her teeth were briefly revealed when she spoke. The seductive feel of her hand stroking his cheek sent fire flashing through his veins and caused a responsive ache in his groin. He felt dazed, his tongue was thick and the words oozed out of him slowly and only through sheer force of will. "The Jackal bows to the swift and unarguable words of the razor sharp speech and wit of the entrancing lady of justice."

He didn't want to look away from her and he thought if even tried to do so that he would fail in the attempt. Spinelli had more to say, the words dripped from his mouth, warmed by his breath and separated by interminable pauses. It became harder to speak, to formulate thoughts, to fight off the overwhelming sensation of ennui as he drowned in the dark fathomless pools of her eyes. "Still, it matters not for eternity is an abstraction best confined to the realms of religion and philosophy." He couldn't go on, he was drained and he watched her with a detached fatalism as unsurprisingly her exquisite lips were bared revealing the sharp fangs beneath.

"Oh, little Jackal," she whispered out, her breath cold and fetid, "That is where you are so entirely mistaken. It is a precious gift well within my purview to bestow and I choose you to be my beneficiary of it upon this night dedicated to the folly that is mortal love. A token if you will of the high esteem with which I regard you."

He actually tilted his head in weary acceptance as she hissed and craned her head forward aiming for the pale white skin of his tender neck, defenseless and waiting. "Keep your fucking teeth off him, bitch!" It was an explosion of sound and action as Jason jumped on Diane catching her by surprise as she focused all her malevolence on Spinelli in order to keep him passively compliant.

She snarled and spun around yanking at the iron clad arm wrapped around her neck in a useless effort to crush a non functioning windpipe. Spinelli staggered backwards, teetering on the edge of the dock. He swayed, watching with shocked eyes as his mentor fought with the feral thing the lawyer had become. Diane was gone and in her place was a red eyed monster replete with slashing teeth and nails. Twirling around caught in a mortal struggle they obliviously backed against the hacker giving him a final push to offset his already precarious balance. He wind milled his arms in a futile effort to stay land bound but it was too late and he tipped backward with no further barrier between him and the dark embrace of the sea.

It was cold, it was black and it was silent. Down he drifted while silvery bubbles of costly air lazily wended their slow way to the surface as they indifferently counted away the precious remaining seconds of his life. Spinelli felt sluggish, his limbs were leaden. The sodden clothing and his heavy shoes conspired together to drag him deeper into the infinite darkness. Some distant part of his brain sounded an alarm, its urgency muffled by the combined effects of hypothermia and shock. Stubbornly he kept his mouth shut. His only still intact survival instinct was the one which repetitively and insistently stated that breathing was tantamount to death.

Arms wrapped around his aching chest, pulling tenaciously against the yank of gravity. He couldn't help in the rescue effort but he managed not to struggle or fight. Slowly inexorably they climbed upwards until two heads sleek and seal like broke the surface. Finally, Spinelli was free to give into the unbearable compulsion to breathe. He coughed and gagged while Jason held him close, his chin resting on his friend's head as he rode out the convulsions of his lungs reacquainting themselves with an oxygen rich environment.

Getting out of the water was a blur. Jason wrestled with Spinelli's exhausted and inert body as he hauled him up the vertical ladder of worn wood and missing rungs which was the only way to exit the water without external help. He lay sputtering on the rough surface of the dock, tremors of fatigue and cold washing ceaselessly through his body.

"Spinelli," Jason's voice was urgent as he wrapped his leather jacket around the boy. He had removed it, his gun and his boots before diving in after Spinelli. "You have to come with me. You're suffering from hypothermia, c'mon get up." He ruthlessly dragged his roommate up to a standing position and wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him upright. Slowly, haltingly they turned in tandem away from the gloomily sinister dock.

"Where…?" Was all Spinelli in his overweening fatigue could manage to say but somehow Jason comprehended his intent.

"She's gone," he said shortly, panting from exertion and shivering from his own immersion in the icy waters of the harbor. "You're safe." He added trying to further comfort Spinelli.

"Miss. Miller…she was a vampire…" He said the words with a bewilderment which had been lacking just ten minutes ago when he had submissively submitted to his putative fate.

"Yes, she was," Jason said with a finality that somehow reassured Spinelli. If that most pragmatic and least imaginative of men, Jason Morgan, said Diane Miller was a vampire then it meant she had indeed been such a mythological creature. The associated corollary to that line of reasoning meant that he, Damian Spinelli, was therefore not clinically insane. Relief flooded through him even as his shivering intensified.

"We have to get you warmed up," Jason sounded worried. Reaching his free hand across to the jacket which enveloped Spinelli in his soaking wet clothes, he fumbled in the pocket closest to him withdrawing his cell phone. Flipping it open he scanned down the directory until he found the name he wanted. "Yeah," he spoke into the mouthpiece, his fingers were becoming numb and he couldn't feel the small device he held in his hand. "Come pick us up, we're at Third and Houghton. Hurry!"

Spinelli leaned heavily against Jason, his teeth chattered and the best he could do to help propel them forward was a shambling gait. Their wet clothes exposed to the fiercely cold night air formed ice crystals in the folds and creases of material. The agonizingly slow progress they made was accompanied by a strange crackling sound as the trapped ice was crushed by the bending motion of their bodies. They walked slowly up the street, Jason intent on keeping them both moving. He instinctively knew that to stop would be to reissue an invitation for death to come calling and as far as he was concerned she had her chance at Spinelli once tonight. He wasn't letting her in another time.

"Stay with me, Spinelli," he said harshly. He periodically shook the hacker's drooping head and looked apprehensively into the liquid sheen of his eyes knowing that they would be unfocused and disoriented if he could see more clearly than the limited surrounding illumination permitted. "Where the fuck is he?" Jason said savagely after an interminable ten minutes passed and not a single car drove by along the derelict street. Just as he was once again reaching for the cell phone to renew his demand for assistance his own black SUV drove down the street and stopped right next to them. "What took you so long?" He rasped at Johnny as he heaved the almost entirely unresponsive form of Spinelli into the back seat and climbed in beside him, holding onto him as the vehicle lurched forward.

"Is he okay?" Johnny ignored Jason's complaint. He recognized it as a side effect of his anxiety on the hacker's behalf.

"He will be," Jason said positively, "As soon as we get him to the hospital and turn up the heat, we just both went swimming." He wrapped the jacket more tightly around Spinelli's torso and said to him quietly, "Just hang in there, you're going to be fine, you'll see..."

Spinelli opened his eyes and immediately regretted it as bright streaming rays of light nearly blinded him. His head ached abominably and he felt vaguely nauseous. He scrunched his eyes shut and let out a groan of discomfort.

"Hey," a quiet voice spoke in response to the noise. It issued from somewhere in the vicinity of his left ear, "How are you feeling?"

Without opening his eyes and risking his retinas getting seared again, he mumbled, "Like I spent last night in an inebriated condition but that isn't what happened is it?" He finished with a sigh and cracked his left eye open cautiously to see Jason sitting close to his bed, incongruously dressed in scrubs and his leather jacket, He was unshaven and his eyes were red rimmed with fatigue. "From the looks of you, Stone Cold, I would venture to say you underwent a similar occurrence."

"Don't you remember what happened?" Jason asked with a note of concern evident in his tone.

Spinelli's brow furrowed as he attempted to recall what series of events had transpired so as to end with him ensconced in what was clearly a hospital bed with Jason holding anxious vigil at his side. The first spark of memory was so unpalatable that he winced as it flashed across his mind.

"Maximista…Maxie once again betrayed the Jackal," he spoke mournfully.

Jason nodded with sympathy, "I know," he said gently, "But do you remember what happened afterward?"

"I…departed posthaste, they did not detect my presence. In my agitation, I left my car behind and walked without thought or plan as I grappled with the perfidious events I had just witnessed." Spinelli stopped speaking and just lay passively in the bed, his face contorted with a mixture of fatigue and grief. "I shall not be able to get past it this time," he said with a quiet reflection, "The bond between us is permanently rent asunder."

"I'm sorry, Spinelli," Jason was getting ready to say something further when the door opened and a young, blonde nurse entered the room.

"Good morning, Mr. Spinelli," she said brightly, "I'm Abby, your nurse for the day. How are you feeling?" She moved to the side of the hospital bed while Jason stood and moved his chair out of the way allowing her to conduct her examination and take Spinelli's vitals unimpeded.

Finally, Spinelli braved the bright sunlight as he opened both his eyes and examined his caretaker. A small smile curved his lips and Jason rolled his eyes as he caught sight of it. "Weak but rallying at your lovely ministering presence," he said gallantly.

Abby laughed at his remark, showing perfectly white, small teeth. Spinelli paled, his body grew rigid as he saw the teeth exposed while his hands lying on top of the blanket curled into tight fists. "It's okay," Jason stepped up next to the bed and placed a reassuring hand on his roommate's shoulder. "It's daytime," and with those mysterious words, the boy let out a sigh of relief and relaxed.

Bemused Abby looked at them both, the exchange had made absolutely no sense to her. Still, she could easily see that whatever the older man had said to her patient it was effective and he was now once again calm. "Well, Mr. Spinelli," she adopted her professional persona as she efficiently took his vitals and gave him another brief, perfunctory smile. "It appears that there are no lingering effects of your winter dip in the harbor." She hesitated for a moment as though wanting to know what that had all been about but then thinking better of it, she took her portable monitor and her clipboard and headed for the door. "I'll check in on you later," she called back before the door swished shut behind her.

Spinelli was watching the closed door wearing an indefinable expression on his face. "I hope you are planning to take a break before your next blonde one, Spinelli," Jason chivied him lightly.

He instantly wished he hadn't teased his roommate when he caught sight of his dolorous appearance. "Stone Cold need have no fears on that topic," he responded somberly. "It is clear that he has no ability to read the female of the species be she simply two faced and treacherous or that she has unexpectedly morphed into a creature of the night. The first experience fractured the Jackal's heart and the second would most certainly have cost him his life and perhaps even his soul without your most timely intercession. No, love, and perhaps even friendship, with the deadlier of the species is not on the Jackal's current or future agenda."

There was a tap on the door and Robin poked her head through the opening. "Hey, guys," she said, "The nurse said you were awake, Spinelli," she added coming fully into the room. "How are you feeling?" She asked pulling a penlight out of the pocket of her scrubs and shining it into each of Spinelli's eyes in turn. "Everything seems to check out." She said as she finished her brief examination and patting Spinelli's blanket clad leg comfortingly. "Barring any unforeseen complications I think you can be released this afternoon but you are just to go straight home and rest," she told him sternly.

"He won't have a choice," Jason was standing behind Robin and glaring down at the recumbent hacker but his censure didn't extend to his eyes which were soft with worry.

"Indeed, every muscle in the Jackal's body aches and he assures the good doctor that he has no reason to stir from Casa de Stone Cold for the immediate future." Spinelli sounded tired and depressed as he responded to Robin who exchanged a surreptitious glance of concern with Jason.

"That is a deal then," she said brightly as she tried but failed to get him to smile at her, "I'll have your discharge paper work ready in a couple of hours."

"Stone Cold?" Spinelli asked tentatively as he sat in the passenger seat of the SUV relieved to be going home.

"Hmmh?" Jason asked as he concentrated on getting out of the hospital's congested parking lot.

"You must know full well that the brusque lady of justice did not spontaneously become a soulless immortal." Somehow his brain shied away from the word vampire.

Jason bit his lip and gazed at Spinelli as he idled in a line of cars waiting to pay their parking tolls. He gave a small shake of his head, "Of course not, that isn't how it works Spinelli." He didn't really want to have this conversation but he knew it was inevitable the hacker was a lot of things but stupid was never on the list.

"So," Spinelli was thinking out loud, "That means there are other such creatures in the environs of our fair city."

Jason sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, as the SUV edged forward in the line, "Yeah, that's right."

"Is the protector of the night…?" Spinelli couldn't finish the sentence, he dreaded hearing the answer.

"Milo called me this morning," Jason's voice was heavy with sorrow, "He found Max's body at Diane's. She drained him of his blood but she didn't opt to change him, for some reason she wanted us to play that role-you and me." He glanced over at Spinelli to gauge how he was taking the information.

"Not an honor of which the Jackal wished to be a recipient," he said grimly, looking through the windshield and refusing to meet Jason's eyes. He felt worn out and overwhelmed by the events of the past day. He knew it would take him time to process everything that had happened and all the associated implications. "The Jackal will use his cyber skills to aid his Master in the tracking down of these unwelcome denizens of the dark. Miss. Miller shall be avenged. She was always exceedingly kind to me and oft listened to my travails of the heart." His voice trailed off as he looked pensively out the window as Jason finally managed to turn onto the street that ran in front of the hospital.

"Yeah, well maybe later, after you have recovered, you can help me track them down. Right now though, I just want you to rest and try not to think about any of this stuff. Sam is waiting back at the penthouse and we will have a quiet evening at home, just the three of us."

Spinelli looked over at Jason's profile while he drove, "The Jackal would not wish to be an unwelcome third wheel in Stone Cold's romantic pursuit of the Goddess. Valentine's Day was already ruined by the alarms and excursions of last night."

"That wasn't your fault," Jason responded firmly. "The penthouse is just as much your home as it is mine and you aren't in the way. Sam has been really worried about you, if you play your cards right I bet you can get her to fuss over you." He gave a little half smile, knowing that if Sam wasn't there that he would be the one doing the fussing.

Spinelli sighed and leaning back in his seat, closed his eyes. He felt drowsy and thought he would take Robin's advice and go to bed when he got back home. Home- it seemed that really was what this experience had been all about. He mistakenly believed that he and Maxie were destined to build a home together. When that erroneous dream had been ripped precipitately from him then for a short time he hadn't cared if Diane made him pay for his misplaced faith with his life.

Yet, when it came down to it, he was luckier than he thought. Jason had risked his own life to save him and he wanted him at the penthouse just as much as he wanted Sam there. It was an unconventional arrangement but it worked for them. However it came about they were each other's family and he could survive being without Maxie as long as he knew he wasn't going to lose Jason. Maybe this was the true meaning of Valentine's Day after all.

A/N: Reviews are appreciated


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